


Let me tell you I love you

by borealowl



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: But mostly fluff, Confessions, Fluff, M/M, Monologue, POV Alternating, letter writing, maybe very slight angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borealowl/pseuds/borealowl
Summary: Crowley tries to rehearse his confession, while Aziraphale writes his in a letter. What happens when they've both finally prepared their declarations, and can't wait to tell the other?





	1. A demon paces around the room

Deep breath. Look in the mirror.

We need to talk.

No, that’s not working. Okay, don’t look in the mirror. Just walk around, talk it out.

Look. I’ve been in love with you since the second time I saw you. Not the first time, because you were just standing there holding a flaming sword and you could have been any asshole from Heaven. I remember the Fall, you know. I even remember what it was like before. We’re supposed to remember, so that no matter what lengths we go to to escape our past, we’ll always carry with us the memory of how much we lost. It’s supposed to eat away at us, twist us into real demons and not just sad failed angels. So I remember the ranks of angels, armed with holy weapons, watching impassively as our own holiness was torn from us and we were flung down. You were probably there.

I’m getting off track. Let’s try this again.

I’ve loved you since the second time I saw you, when you didn’t have your sword, and I asked what happened, and you tried to make up an excuse and couldn’t, and you looked at me like I had to understand. And I did understand! The two humans Fell, and instead of just watching, you helped them, even though it meant getting into trouble. And you knew that God could be cruel enough to cast you out, and you still took the risk. I didn’t know we could Fall! I was just asking questions, and I sided with the ones who thought they were good questions, but I never thought we’d be exiled forever. Not for questions.

Sometimes I wonder, would I have Fallen, if I’d known you before? I’d still have asked questions, nothing was going to stop that, but I could have just asked you, and you would have said, “It’s ineffable, we weren’t meant to understand,” in that stuffy voice you use when you don’t want to admit I have a point, and it wouldn’t have been a satisfying answer but maybe I’d have been content anyway, because I’d have had you. I’ve been a lot more content with knowing my questions will always go unanswered, since I’ve met you.

Augh, this is not how I want this to go. _Focus_ , Crowley.

…Can’t focus. Going to go yell at the plants.

All right, which one of you isn’t performing up to standard today? Do you have spots? IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THAT LEAF? Oh, no, it’s a bud. Well, good job I suppose. Good to see that none of you are slacking off. But don’t get complacent!

Okay. That wasn’t as cathartic as I hoped. But okay, let’s try again.

I’ve been in love with you since I saw you, swordless, at the Eastern Gate. And it’s only gotten worse since then. I’ve tried to hint at it, and sometimes you seemed interested and sometimes you seemed scared, but I could never quite manage to say it. Though really, how you could think an invitation to run off to Alpha Centauri together was anything but a declaration, I don’t know.

Look, if you’re not interested and you’ve been avoiding the subject because you don’t want to hurt my feelings, it’s fine. We can still be friends. I’ll still come to rescue you from Nazis. Why are there still Nazis? No, stay on topic.

If you don’t love me back, that’s fine. But if it’s just that you’re scared, then maybe we can face it together? You’re so brave, even when you don’t want to be. You gave away your sword, you defied Heaven, you faced down Satan, you went into Hell wearing my face and made Michael give you a towel. You’re brave and brilliant and amazing and I love you.

Okay, that’s not terrible. No, wait, it is terrible. Argh, I don’t care anymore, let’s just go get it over with.


	2. An angel puts pen to paper

My Dearest Crowley,

My apologies for communicating this intelligence via the written medium, but I have endeavoured to put my feelings into words for some time, and cannot seem to communicate them clearly through speech. Therefore, I have turned to the epistolatory arts in an attempt to convey my message.

Crowley, I love you. (Why is it so much easier to write than to say?) I’m not sure when, precisely, I fell in love with you, but I have slowly come to realize that I have been in love for some time now. Forgive me for not saying it sooner. I was not sure whether you returned my feelings. I am still unsure, though I do wonder whether you would invite a mere colleague to escape with you to Alpha Centauri. But perhaps you see me only as a friend.

There is another reason I have failed to speak until now. I remember the day you Fell. Not you personally, but all the rebellious angels. I don’t remember if I saw you there, or even if I knew you before, because we can’t remember the Fallen. It would be too much of a punishment for us to mourn the loss of friends and loved ones. So we don’t remember any of you—save for the Morningstar, who I suppose is meant to be remembered as a cautionary example. So I don’t know whether we were acquainted before the War started. I doubt it. If I’d known you, heard you question everything in the way that you do, would I have been able to stay on the side of Heaven? Or would I have followed you, even though it defied my belief in the Ineffable Plan, just to stay with you?

But I digress. My point is that, I was there during the War, and I watched as you were cast down, and even though I can’t remember individual faces, I still remember the looks of shock and betrayal. And yet, I stood there, holding my sword at the ready lest any of you attempt return.

I worry that you must hate me, for standing there and watching you fall. I hated myself. I hated being cold and self-assured and utterly convinced of my purity. But I knew of no other way to be.

And then you came and tempted the first humans. Did you see the parallels then? You, expelled from Paradise, causing them to fall from grace as well? I did, and I saw a chance to start being someone else, who does not simply watch others’ suffering. And then you came and asked me questions and made me truly wonder about the Divine Plan. I still believe in it. I still believe that what we did, saving the world, was part of the Plan. But the plan has caused you so much suffering, my dear, and I still can’t quite reconcile that.

I know that sometimes I seem uncaring. Despite your demonic nature, I think that you are better at caring than I am. You are never able to just accept suffering without question. You were not willing to sacrifice the world to the war, nor to kill the Antichrist. You taught me to question Heaven and to love the world. Is it any wonder I love you? You helped me find my heart, and now it is yours.

I do not expect you to do anything in response to this letter. I will not raise the subject again. I am glad to have been your friend for these thousands of years, and I can be content to stay as such in the thousands of years I hope we may spend together. But do know that I love you.

Sincerely,

Aziraphale


	3. We need to talk

The angel reads the handwritten paper before him, repeatedly picking up a pen and then placing it down unused. Finally, with a sigh, he folds it up and places it in an envelope, seals it with wax, and writes “Anthony J. Crowley, Esq.” on the front in impeccably neat cursive. He places the letter in a jacket pocket and walks toward the door of his shop.

Before the angel can exit, a demon bursts in through the doors.

“Crowley!” exclaims the angel. “What excellent timing. I have a letter that I need you to read.”

“Aziraphale. We need to talk.”

“Yes, we certainly do, but first I would like you to read this letter.” The angel proffers the envelope, but the demon waves it impatiently away.

“I’ll read the letter later. This is important.”

“So is my letter! Please, I really do think you should read it before we talk further. You might not want to talk to me after you read it.”

“ _Please_ just let me say this before I lose my nerve!”

“Crowley, I really need you to read this first!”

“Go—Sa— _Somebody_ da—ble—Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake, Aziraphale, will you please just let me tell you that I love you already!”

“You…what?”

“I love you. You’re stubborn and annoying and fussy and beautiful and I’ve loved you for six thousand years. I had a whole speech prepared about it, that I was _trying_ to deliver. But the point is, I love you, and if you don’t love me that’s fine, and if you need more time I can wait another six thousand years if I have to, but I love you. Okay?”

Aziraphale lets the envelope fall to the floor. Gently, he reaches out to remove Crowley’s glasses. He places a soft hand on the demon’s cheek and looks into his eyes.

“I love you too. I was afraid to say it, but I do.”

Crowley smiles. “It’s okay to be afraid, Angel. We’ve faced worse.” Anything else he might have said was interrupted by Aziraphale’s lips on his. They break the kiss long enough to stare at each other in wonder, Aziraphale’s arms around Crowley’s neck, Crowley’s hands running along Aziraphale’s back. Then their mouths meet again and they lose track of everything around them.

With impeccable timing, the shop door opens. “Hello?” One of them—neither is quite sure which—waves a hand and the customer finds herself back outside, the door locked firmly behind her, and with only the vaguest memory that she had intruded on something private.

Some time later, the angel and demon are on the battered couch. A trail of discarded garments runs along the floor, and what clothes they have retained are decidedly rumpled. They lie in each others’ arms, smiling and touching and kissing and laughing with delight.

Even later, the demon is drowsing on the couch, arms and legs thrown around the angel. Aziraphale gently kisses him, and the demon’s eyes open. He looks at the angel, first in disbelief, then in awe, and finally in delight.

“I didn’t get to deliver my speech properly, but it all worked out in the end.”

“The important information was conveyed.”

“Oh!” Crowley sits up. “I’m sorry angel, I completely forgot about your letter! I can go read it now. You’ll have to let me up, but I promise to come back right away.”

“Oh no, I don’t think it’s necessary anymore. It was my own declaration of love. I think you now know how I feel.”

Crowley smiles with just a touch of wickedness. “I don’t know, you could show me some more… but first I want to read this letter about how you love me.”

Aziraphale squirms. “It’s, well, it’s a bit embarrassing. I ramble quite a bit in it, and I’m not sure if you want or need to read my musings on the subject of us.”

“Well, now I do.” Crowley moves to get up, but Aziraphale grabs him.

“Crowley! If you’re going to read the letter, you have to promise me two things. First, that you won’t hate me for what’s in it.”

“Angel, six thousand years of loving you is not going to be undone by anything in a letter. But sure, I promise. What’s the second?”

Aziraphale smiles. “That you deliver the speech you practiced. If I have to share my feelings, I want to hear yours.”

“Done, and done.” Crowley gently (and somewhat reluctantly) extricates himself from the angel’s grasp. Following the trail of clothing, he finds the envelope, opens the letter, reads it. His face turns thoughtful, maybe a bit grim, and Aziraphale wrings his hands. But as Crowley reads, his face softens again, and when he puts down the pages, his smile and golden snake eyes are suffused with warmth. He leans forward and kisses Aziraphale, who sags with relief.

“I don’t care what you were like before. You’re my angel now, and I love you.”

Aziraphale’s face glows with joy. “And you are my demon, and I love you. Now,” he continues in a brisker tone. “I believe I was promised a speech.”

Crowley makes a face. “It’s embarrassing.”

“So was my letter. And I promise you I will be delighted to hear it.” Aziraphale looks at him with wide eyes, and Crowley resigns himself to his fate.

“Fine. But no interrupting this time.” The demon steps back, takes a deep breath, looks at Aziraphale, looks away.

“I’ve been in love with you since the second time I saw you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
